From the Ashes of Vengeance
by Humdumdiddlydurr
Summary: Evil cannot be killed by pretty words, alone. Ginny Weasley must learn what it truly takes to get revenge. (Tom/Ginny)
1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:** Okay, so, yes this IS another one of those time travel stories, but I am really trying to give it my own spin.  
I know that there is not a great amount of action in this one, but I wanted to get a feel for the characters as I am still not used to the style of fan fiction. It has been a delightful challenge to try and adapt, though. I am experimenting with combining various styles and tinkering with the storyline, so I would appreciate constructive feedback wherever possible. Please stick with it, though, don't give up on me just yet! I promise things will pick up! There will be much more Tom/Ginny action to come…mwahahaha.

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters and associated content, these are owned by J.K. Rowlings and Warner Brothers.

* * *

The evening sky was dark, an abyss devoid of moon and stars, repressed by the blanket of thick smog-like clouds which had long plunged the earth into a perpetual haze. This dismal characteristic was further emphasized by the absolute lack of sound. There were no crickets or sign of any life, the world was tomb, vast and dead. The moon, however, would likely have been of little assistance anyway as the wood through which the pair ran was ancient and thick with overgrowth.

Ginny Weasley cursed this darkness and everything else that she could think of as her knee slammed into the trunk of a tree, causing her to stumble and fall. While she did not waste a moment to brush herself off before jumping up to her feet, her companion, impatient as ever, had already wrapped a hand around her upper arm, pulling her along after him. The abrupt action caused her to cry out in surprise.

His grip was crushing as he dragged her behind him, "Damn it, Weasely." The voice hissed, "Do you want to get us killed?!" Against the silence around them he may as well have screamed.

The young woman clenched her jaw and threw her body weight away from him, using the momentum to pull her too-thin arm from his hand. While she stumbled, this time she did not fall, and wiping her forehead with her arm shot a wrathful glare at her companion. "Stuff it, Malfoy. Just go." She was already running by the time she finished, dodging a large stone with a wince. Each step was a struggle that felt as if she was dragging cement blocks behind her. _Merlin, when is the last time I stood on my own?_ When was the last time she had eaten? The young woman's stomach rumbled at the thought.

Why they were running all this way, in the first place the young woman wasn't quite sure. _Perhaps to avoid sniffers_. The reasoning did not help the pain, however. She felt so weak. Ginny had been in that room, in the dark for so long, it seemed like forever. Well, really she was still in the dark, but at least she was no longer chained or confined. There were no dementors out here wherever Malfoy had brought her. _So, there is that_, she supposed.

Her body continued to shake with the exertion of their brisk movement, her bones ached, and it felt as though her lungs were on fire. That she was even moving was a miracle in and of itself.

However, the only positive or, possibly negative, to the inane exercise was it gave her the ability to think. Feeling the breeze on her face almost allowed Ginny the moment's memory of what it was like on a broom, again. The pain ebbed away and the corner of her lip twitched up for a fleeting moment. But she soon after collided with a low hanging branch, and her face became solemn once more

"This way, Weasley." Malfoy growled in a voice that had aged markedly since she had heard it all those months ago. It was deeper and had a harsh, unfamiliar rasp. She considered him as they ran and could see he moved in an odd way. The great, holier-than-thou Draco Malfoy limped and generally favoured his right side.

_Good, _Ginny thought, _I hope you suffered as much as the rest of us._ Malfoy might have been with her now, but he sure had not been all of those months ago. To be honest she did not trust him, still. She was intelligent enough to know that he wanted something from her, and that she would not be free were it not for that, but his assistance lingered in the back of her mind. Malfoy had knocked out her two executioners and aparated the two of them somewhere seemingly far away. _So…again…that is something_, Ginny supposed.

Conflicted would not have adequately represented her current feelings.

"If you don't want back in that cursed place," He growled over his shoulder again, "Then hurry up!"

Ginny riled against the reprimand, wanted to remind him where he had helped to put her, what she had been subjected to, but knew it would not help. So, she clenched her jaw and tried to pretend that the pain was not actually pain, and move her legs faster.

Unfortunately, the mention of that place turned her mind towards darker thoughts with nothing but pain to distract her.

She thought of Harry, sweet, heroic, Harry. The great saviour, the chosen one.

His perfect face, the desire of her childhood imaginings, plagued her mind as her foot caught a root. Though she caught herself, Ginny could not stop a tear from sliding down her cheek at the thought of his eyes filled with their quiet confidence, his hands, the little cluster of freckles on his right shoulder.

Harry had been the love of her life.

Dodging a low-hanging limb, a familiar scene flashed to the fore of her mind. She saw Harry looking dishevelled and tired, taking her face into his hands and kissing her as he had never done before. Looking back, he had known it was going to be the last time. Her lips still tingled at the memory, eyes brimming. There he was, looking as beautiful and brave as he ever had, with Hermione and Ron beside him. It had seemed picture perfect. Had it been one of her muggle fantasy books that Hermione had gotten her to read, it would never have ended as it did, there would have been celebration and singing.

All of the lives lost on that day, begun with so much hope.

So many of the horcruxes had been destroyed, everything was going as planned, it should not have ended as it did. It just shouldn't have.

But it had…everything had gone wrong. One moment everyone was standing a strong front before the ever growing throng of Death Eaters and the next, there were bodies everywhere. She watched as Harry's wand broke in face of the Dark Lord's onslaught. The elder wand was too great. She remembered her screams drowning out everything else as Harry fell to the ground in a blanket of green.

Harry, her Harry. Gone in an instant, and with him her hopes, everyone's hopes.

_How Cliché_. she thought miserably.

A thorn bush grabbed hold of Ginny's dingy sweater pulling at the old threads and scratching shallow welts into her skin. She felt nothing as she remembered the look in her father's eyes as he held his mother motionless in his arms, a death eater approaching behind. She remembered running towards him wand out and her lips beginning to wrap around a curse she had never thought she'd utter. _No!_

Struggling not to hyperventilate, at the image of her father falling to the ground, her thoughts shifted firmly to the image of Ron and Hermione locked in an unending embrace. Still and cold. _Gone…everyone is gone._

It was surprising that it could still elicit such a reaction, but the pain had never numbed.

Her only solace was that she fought until she could not stand or move. But a part of her wondered if she would have been able to save her loved ones, to make more of a difference, if she had been able to bring herself to utter those unforgivable words.

With her mind in such disarray the young woman did not see Malfoy stop at the birth of a clearing. She collided with his back, crumpling backwards, exhaustion finally taking the best of her.

Malfoy looked at her with that familiar sneer, but it lacked its normal venom. It was a tired look, miserable. His eyes, too, were a dull murky grey instead of the striking mercury they had once been. She remembered a time when she had actually admired them, albeit begrudgingly. His face, she further observed, was aged. The deep purple circles under his eyes and gaunt stubble-covered cheeks giving him the look of someone twice his age.

For a moment she felt a pang of something but quickly stifled it, returning the look with all of the anger that had been consuming her over the last few minutes and months before. Though he may be helping her now, it did no excuse the past by any means. He deserved whatever he had gotten, the little fucking snake that he was. Nothing he was subjected to could ever match up to what had been done to her and hers.

"Merlin's sake, Weasley," he hissed, "Are you trying to make as much noise as possible?"

She glowered but said nothing. _Hermione was right, you are a little cockroach…_

He kept his eyes upon her for another moment before turning his back to her and removing his wand from within the billows of the tattered robes about his shoulders. She felt so vulnerable at the sight of it. Not out of fear, but because it caused Ginny to suddenly remember that a piece of her was missing, an essential aspect of her person. But it was pointless, her wand was little more than a broken stick lying in the ruins of what had once been Hogwarts.

"What are you doing, Malfoy?!" she whispered low.

He raised his hand to quiet her before whispering something barely audible and giving his wand a flick. A small flare flew from the tip, but hung low to the ground and burst into a dull light near the centre of the clearing. Her body tensed and out of habit she pushed herself onto her feet, weakly shifting into a defensive position. She tried and failed to ignore the ache in her lower back and knees as she turned about to scan the area.

In the moments that followed nothing happened, and the utter still silence made Ginny's heart pound in her ears and skin crawl. A feeling of nausea also descended upon her belly and her hands began to shake as her mind cautiously fell to betrayal, brows furrowing.

Her gaze fell upon Malfoy.

However, before she could plan anything more concrete than: _If I could just get his wand from him… there_ was movement in the bushes beyond. Despite the protests in her atrophied muscles and the aches in her joints, Ginny took a few steps back and prepared to run again. Out of the corner of her eye she saw a familiar face emerge from the brush, the sight of which, as he walked into the dull light, caused all blood to drain from her face.

Snape.

Jaw dropping, she took another step back and prepared to run. However, with reflexes she hadn't realized Malfoy possessed, he grabbed her arm again and clamped the other hand over her mouth, pulling her with him into the clearing.

Kicking and struggling, she tried biting into his hand, but could not get a piece. However, she did make satisfying contact with her foot and the inside of his right knee. As she struggled, Ginny wished above all else for her wand, so that she could curse this treacherous little bug for betraying her again. He shook her harshly in response, growling in her ear.

"Stop it, Weasley! I didn't risk my life just to bring you here to kill you." She stilled somewhat at his exasperated words, which allowed him to drag her towards that man, the traitor who killed Dumbledore and aided _He Who Shall Not Be Named_ in the final battle.

When he felt her calm Malfoy whispered in her ear, "We need to be quiet, _he_ has eyes and ears everywhere."

Sighing, Ginny nodded once but continued to shoot a withering glare at Snape behind whom Malfoy went to stand. Both looked at her with an unnerving intensity when she was finally standing on her own. Without thinking she did the most natural and admittedly cliché action she could think of: she slapped Snape across the jaw as hard as she could.

He did not react. Taking the assault in silence he pulled a handkerchief from his robes and blotted the corner of his lips. They were still looking at her in silence when she took a step back, shoulders heaving from the exertion, but their scrutiny caused her to shift her weight uncomfortably as they stood in silence. She got no satisfaction out of hitting him, if anything it made her feel worse, but that may have just been the stinging in her palm.

Again, her lack of weapon troubled her. _Two of the people I hate most in the world. Unbelievable._

"Miss Weasley," Snape eventually broke the silence in that distinct, clipped voice of his, even now sounding as if she had submitted a substandard paper.

She did not deign to respond.

"Contrary to what you may believe, I am not your enemy."

Again, silence.

"But, we don't have time, and thus cannot give you any more assurance that I am not here to harm you and I…"

She shook her head violently and spat on his shoes. "Save it, I don't care…really" She sniffed, crossing her thin arms over her chest, "Just tell me why you decided to free me from hell."

Snape looked mildly displeased, pursing his lips during her little tirade, studying her.

She felt her cheeks flush despite herself. Ginny had not seen her own appearance in something just less than a year. Where she and the survivors of the battle had been taken had neither windows nor mirrors. But she knew that she must look like Hell. She could feel that her hair was far too long, falling to her waist, and matted beyond belief. The days that she would go without food had caused her body to sink into itself, bones and veins protruding all over. Her normally pale skin looked virtually translucent and when she touched her face she could feel how gaunt and sunken her features had become.

However, instead of feeling ashamed or embarrassed, she lifted her chin.

_Take a good look and see what you have done_.

After another moment Snape pulled something from within his robes, something she recognized instantly. Ginny's mouth fell open in disbelief.

"How did you get a time turner?!" her voice hitched.

"Hmmm…the Ministry was not the only protector of precious treasures."

She did not bother pressing him for information; McGonagall had gotten one to give to Hermione, after all. Just because the Ministry of Magic's store of them had been destroyed did not mean there were no more, particularly in a time with no real guiding authority. Where fear and panic ran rife, it was no wonder there would be a few treasures falling through the cracks.

"Alright, well…what does this have to do with me?" She tried to gather herself, tried to keep the interest from her voice.

He paused, flicking a lock of his long hair from his face with an unnecessarily dramatic flair "We're asking you to go on what could very well be a suicide mission, Miss Weasley." Ginny frowned. "Go back to 1943 and stop _Him_."

Her mouth dropped. Were they absolutely crazy?! They must have been, for neither even had the grace to look uncomfortable. Snape's inscrutable mask was ever in place, his gaze penetrating as ever.

"W-why? Why would you two want…"

"You are not the only one that has suffered, _Weasley_." Malfoy interrupted with a hiss.

That sapped her of the awe born from the turner. All of her self-control was required to keep her from screaming and attacking him.

When she finally did speak, she wished, that she did not sound so much like she was on the verge of sobbing. "No…no I'm not." She paused, "There are thousands out there who, like me, watched their families and friends die. I don't know how many of us you threw into Azkaban after that battle but from the crying and screaming that put me to sleep every night, I know there are many. This is not even to mention the countless muggles and muggle-borns that _your_ kind," She nearly spat in his face, "have killed in the name of your master."

"I think of those that have suffered and still suffer every night, every day. But you, by Merlin, you are not one of them."

Malfoy had the good grace to at least look down as she seethed. His face flushing in what may have once been an appealing shade.

"You got everything you and your despicable family wanted. The streets are covered in the bodies of muggles, muggle borns, and blood traitors. Are you happy?!" Her voice broke once again from the shrill whisper.

His eyes were glassy when he looked up to meet hers again, a rage that she well recognized etched within. "He killed my father and muh…mother 2 months ago."

Breath hitching in her throat, Ginny's jaw clenched, but she did not back down or apologize. _They got what they deserved_, she thought instinctively. But after a moment she found herself disgusted at her own thoughts. It was a bit off putting, realizing she was not the same girl she had once been. But then, Ginny had not been that girl for a very long time.

"Might I ask for some amount of maturity?"

She turned on him, the abrupt movement causing black spots to fly before her vision What she wouldn't do for burger. "Why me, why now?" Snape sighed and looked as if he was about to lecture her.

"Miss Weasley, we only recently came upon this object. Your ordered execution as a chance to retrieve you was something of a…forseen coincidence." He cleared his throat, eyes darting around quickly before returning to her. "And as for it being you…well you have intimate knowledge of _Him_ when he was still...human shall we say. That is more than anyone else has."

That title made Ginny shiver, suddenly feeling small and cold. She closed her eyes, his face passing across her vision. It was disgusting that that boy (man, ghost?) could still make some part of her twist. She was weak, too weak for this. Why was it her? Why?

"You know him better than me. You fought for him, followed him."

"Yes but we do not know _Him_. You once told Dumbledore that he shared information about himself with you."

"No it was...it was more onesided."

"But he did share with you."

"N-no well yes but not that much and he..."

"As I said."

"I don't..."

"Did you not understand me when I said there were no other alternatives?"

"But can't you…" God she hated that he could make her feel like a student again.

"You do understand how a time turner works, don't you? Do I resemble a student?"

"Well…well no b-but couldn't you just pop in and stop him?"

"Pop in?" He sounded incredulous, "I would have no chance of gaining access to him in Hogwarts, and we do not know enough about his whereabouts to access him otherwise." He did not wait for her to respond, "This is not up for discussion it is the only way. You must stop him somehow, kill him if you can. But he must be stopped."

Her lip quivered. _Can I kill someone?_ She wondered, the thought causing a shudder to run down her spine and hug herself. Even in the battle she had not thrown a killing curse or injured anyone beyond repair. Yes, she wounded and incapacitated, but Kill? That was something else entirely.

_God, why me?_

Bitting her cracked lip absently, a small drop of blood welled as she thought. The coppery taste was surprisingly soothing, familiar. When her gaze rose up to Malfoy, she saw desperation, and he looked so broken. Snape, alternatively, still wore an inscrutable mask, but he, too, looked tired, his shoulders were not held in their normal rigidity. She knew they would not have come to her if there was any other way.

She would do it. _I have to._ She thought stolidly, knowing Harry would.

So, it seemed she had little choice. She would do it for everyone that she had loved and lost. Harry, Ron, Fred, George, Mum, Dad, Bill, Hermione, Neville, Dean…all of them. She would do this for them. She would kill a man for them. A single man. Besides he wasn't a person, anyway, Voldemort was a monster.

Ginny's eyes went wide and her blood froze, head shooting from side to side. God what had she done, fucking stupid. _Does it work if…_

A sound not far from them had all three heads turning immediately.

_Fuck fuck fuckidy fuck fuck_

Snape lunged at her then and she barely suppressed a scream as he threw the turner over her head. He grabbed the sides of her face, as Malfoy pulled free his wand and looked around. The look in his eyes belayed his terror, but they were intense, ready. _God he looks so old, maybe I…_

Snape pulled her attention back to him, his face mere inches from hers. For the first time she could see the burst capillaries in his eyes speaking of sleepless nights and pain. Again she felt a pang of something not unlike pity, but she stopped the feeling dead. She needed to be cold, if she was going to do this, heartless.

"We do not know what will happen. To my knowledge no one has ever travelled so far back, it could very well kill you." He took in a deep breath, and in the silence Ginny could not help the shiver that again ran down her spine. "But do try to avoid that."

She breathed, nodding solemnly.

Something moved in the trees behind them, causing her to jump, lip quivering. Could _He_ really sense _His_ name from a thought? Perhaps they had been patrolling here anyway, Malfoy had been concerned about noise, after all.

Malfoy met her eyes for a moment, some undefinable emotion passing across his features before running for the clearing where she could hear voices and movement. A though briefly occurred that perhaps she should run, escape Snape's grasp and just disappear. But not only did her muscles object, but Snape had such a fierce hold on her it was unlikely that there would be a chance to leave in anyway but one.

The sounds grew increasingly louder as the minutes wore on. _Where is Malfoy?_ As the thought crossed her mind the sounds stopped abruptly and the young woman glanced behind Snape to the tree line, her anxiety rising to a fever pitch. Just as abruptly the silence turned to screams. Heart pounding in her chest, her gazed turned beseechingly back to Snape.

The impassive mask had fallen back into place, again he was blank and unreadable. "It is set. You must only turn it once."

"Okay. I-"

He brought his lips abruptly down upon her forehead. She did not breathe for a moment, and had no idea what to do. She knew that she should feel disgusted after all that he had done, so why did she actually feel comforted.

"Miss Weasley…Ginny. I have faith." He paused another moment before pulling something from his robes that looked like papers, but she did not look to closely as another loud scream distracted her. When they were grasped in her small hands, Snape pushed her behind him and pulled free his wand.

"GO!" He called just as six figures emerged from the darkness, into the clearing.

Her hands shook, her body felt suddenly drained of energy as she laid eyes on them. It was _Him_ followed by several masked followers. Heart beating with such a desperate ferocity that Ginny thought it might beat through her chest. It felt as if she was paralysed, her legs refusing to move. Was it exhaustion? Fear? A hex? She did not know, but she did know that she could not remove her eyes from that monster.

He looked more serpent than man, a hideous abomination of heaven and hell that had been let loose upon this world. Perhaps the muggles were right, and it was divine punishment. Looking at him at that moment, Ginny felt, again, as if she would vomit, seeing him wear that satisfied, victorious grin, and she swore she could see blood staining his robes. _Malfoy?_

Her blood boiled with a paralysing hatred. This thing had taken everything from her, had been the cause of all of her suffering, and here he was completely untroubled. Voldemort had destroyed her in every possible way, and yet it was not even a drop in the bucket, so to speak.

"Severus…" The voice rasped, causing an infuriating lurch in her stomach "Still a weakness for red-heads?"

Snape did not speak but he did glance at her from the corner of his eye, his harsh boring gaze ordering her to leave, to get away from the place before it was too late.

He was apparently not as covert as thought, for the Dark Lord followed his eyes. He inspected her for a moment, scorching her like fire. "You? How int…"

When she made no movement, Snape did instead, raising his wand and interrupting the Voldemort with a holler of some incantation unknown to her, which resulted in what felt like an explosion. The last thing her eye saw clearly was a lone figure standing unconcerned amongst dark billowing clouds, looking through them and into her.

Screams and light.

She was blinded and thrown from her feet across the clearing, shoulder slamming into a stump when gravity decided to once again assert itself. When she opened her eyes, her gaze was shrouded by unkempt red hair but would not have been able to see, anyway, through the red hot smoke which burned her face and lungs. She was surrounded by movement and yelling, incantations being thrown all about her. It seemed as if Snape was holding his own, but as the thought passed a calm voice broke through, almost conversationally. "Avada Kedavra."

Everything went silent, and she knew that she would not have another chance. Weakly lifting her hand to her throat she groped blindly until she found the delicate time turner. Blessedly it was still in one piece. As footsteps approached she shed a quiet tear and whispered an apology.

She turned the dial and her world went dark.


	2. Chapter 2

**Author's Note:** Wanted to post two chapters to provide a better sense of direction. I know this is a lot of background, but I am really trying to make this characterization of Ginny correct and to set some reasonable context. But don't worry there is more and much more interesting stuff…errr hopefully. I have another six chapters partially edited, but I was hoping to get a bit more feedback before I submit them so as not to continue to repeat any mistakes I might be making. So please leave helpful reviews!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter or any of its characters and associated content, these are owned by J.K. Rowlings and Warner Brothers.

* * *

When Ginny finally managed to struggle from the abyss of unconsciousness, her world was pain.

_Oh Merlin…I'm dying._

Her entire being burned with it. Agony pulsed through her head with every beat of her heart, and every breath sent a shot of red hot fire through her chest and limbs. Her joints were in such acute anguish that the very thought of shifting caused tears to stream down her bruised cheeks. With a whine she tried to open her eyes but they felt heavy, her hands, too.

_Yes, yes definitely dying, really finally dying. Oh Merlin…_

The young woman, if the pile of flesh and bone could really be called such, quirked the corner of her chapped bleeding lips. Small pebbles of red stained them and trailed fine lines down her chin. She wondered if it would really be so bad. After suffering for so long, sleep would be nice. Would her family be proud of her for that at least, surviving for as long as she had? Would they understand?

_Would Harry?_ She paused in the trail of half lucid reasoning, attempting to fight of the fog and black spots. A pair of green eyes and a boyish smile flooded her vision, so loving and alive. Another followed, eyes murky and miserable, imploring. Her empty stomach rebelled, twisting and turning in nausea. The soft sob that escaped her lips caused a new pang of fire to shoot throughout her abdomen.

_No. No…I want to live, have to._

She would not fall, could not fail.

Blinking a few times to acclimate to her blurry surroundings, Ginny made several miserable attempts to roll onto her side. Her throat already getting horse from the screams and cries escaping each time she moved, it would have been humiliating had she not been alone.

The Heroes in stories never cried, she reminded herself, attempting to stifle a sob. They always took it in silence. Strong, stoic, silence. But a low wail escaped as her hip shifted.

Her fourth try succeeded, however, and she managed to roll onto her side. Pressing sore fingers into the wet mossy earth beneath her, she felt a light tickle against her cheek as she laid her head down against it to stave of the dizziness of movement.

_Come on, come on, just sit up. SIT UP! _

With another excruciating surge of motion she managed to lay flat on her stomach, crying out loudly again as something in her shoulder wrenched. While she may have sobbed and screamed, Ginny refused to submit to the pain, maintaining her consciousness and focus by chanting her mantra of _sit up…sit up_. Placing both palms flat on either side of her and pushing up, she cried out, again, as the movement to her knees made her ribs shift with a sickening crunch. However, again after several moments, she did manage to sit up and back on her heels. Arms falling down at her sides and knuckles grazing the ground, her head rolled to one side in exhaustion as she cried

It took longer than her ego would have liked to admit for her sobs to still.

But she was up, she had sat up and she….

Ginny lost consciousness. She did not know how long it could have been for a moment or an hour. But when she opened her eyes again and blinked a few times she looked the sky was marginally lighter. Carefully, so as not to worsen her sore neck, she looked around, fighting the urge to vomit as she recognized her surroundings. She hadn't before, with Snape and Malfoy, it was far too overgrown, too dead. She had thought it only a random clearing in some random wood far off from death eaters.

Recognition dawned as her eyes caught sight of a massive structure in the distance. She was on the outer grounds of Hogwarts.

_Hogwarts_

Her heart sped up, hope blooming in her gut for the first time in a long time. She vaguely wondered if she was in danger, being so close to the forbidden forest, but didn't care by that point, she was too exhausted, too hurt. And so, the young woman did the first thing that she could think of. Taking in a breath so deep her body felt as if it would explode, Ginny screamed. She put in all of the torment from the last number of months, her sorrow, everything she had, into the shrill sound. She closed her eyes, and blacked out again.

* * *

_Warm_

_The first thoughts in Ginny's mind as she slowly rose towards consciousness, were of comfort, warmth, and the burrow. "Mum?" she muttered, rolling onto her side, pulling the blanket up under her chin. Shuffling not far from her grated against her ears, rousing her further._

_When she rolled over again, something brushed against her toe, causing her to curl into a ball. With a yawn she muttered somewhat louder, "Muum?"_

_Again, she received no answer._

_A loud thumping noise to her left jolted her completely from sleep. Rubbing her eyes wearily she sat up in bed to find a room doused in blackness. The warmth was gone, the blanket no longer offering refuge from the chill, and no amount of hugging her arms abated the goosebumps._

_Looking around, she recognized her old room. Through the gloom she could see the wood panelled walls, covered in old posters and the old matted carpet strewn with clothes. _

'_I should really clean that up at some point.' She thought with no real motivation._

_With a groan she reached over to her wand lying on the side table and flicked it, "Lumos." _

_When the tip of her wand lit up the room, she screamed. At the foot of her bed, hidden from direct line of sight there was her mother, back to Ginny. Furrowing her brows, the girl muttered under her breath, about privacy and knocking, but the normally quick woman did not seem to hear. With a roll of her eyes and resigned grin she tossed one of the small throw pillows at her mother's back, but received no acknowledgement. The woman just stood, arms dangling at her sides._

_Something tickled Ginny's foot again._

_Pushing herself onto her knees, frowning, she ventured another question, "Mu-mum what are you doing?" Was that water on her neck? Her skin seemed quite pale, as well. Maybe she wasn't feeling well, there had been the spattergroit going around recently. She crawled forward slowly until she was only inches from the small woman and reached out. _

_What met her eyes sent her shaking and screaming into consciousness._

Her breaths were heavy when she surged awake, body shaking from the force of her sobbing.

"Oh dear, oh dear, no yeh 're safe, you are fine. Hush now."

The sound of the woman's voice spooked Ginny, causing her to throw herself off the bed and scramble to the wall, putting distance between her and the voice. Though she tried to silence the tears, but they were resilient as the half conscious memories lingered with the last vestiges of sleep.

She saw her mother, but it was not her mother, it was a corpse. Her face decomposing and twisted in a look a sheer terror, empty sockets staring at Ginny, through Ginny.

"Oh…oh…oh sweetling no, no yeh 're safe. Calm down deep breaths, yes just like that. Good girl, yes yeh're all right, no one is going to hurt yeh." The woman did not approach thankfully.

The words were somewhat calming, the gut-wrenching pain being replaced with a hollow numbness as the memory began to slowly dissolve into darkness and shadows. All but those words. A phrase that had long haunted her dreams had quite literally been carved into her mother's body: "Her body will lie in the Chamber forever…"

The woman's fussing was a welcome distraction, pulling the girl fully into consciousness until she was able to blink her sleep and disorientation away completely. While she calmed somewhat, the words did not leave her, echoing abysmally in her mind.

They taunted her.

However, the woman's soothing words gave Ginny the courage to calm herself down, and after taking a few deep breaths she glanced down and found she was in a white cotton short-sleeved gown. In response she looked at her surroundings, where she found a very familiar infirmary. Her shoulders sagged with relief even though the woman currently looking at her like a bruised puppy was not quite as familiar.

Leaning back against the corner she realized none of her joints ached, her head felt fine, and her stomach for the first time in a long time did not feel empty.

"Oh dear, oh dear so many bad dreams, no don't yeh worry! Yeh will be in tip top shape when I am done with yeh. Are yeh with me dear?" Ginny nodded weakly and allowed the older woman to help her back to the cot. Her exhausted brown eyes watching her companion languorously.

Ginny watched as the woman, wand in hand, flicked her wrist from side to side and in a flash had the young girl tucked right back into bed with blankets wrapped comfortingly around her. She was old, all white and wrinkled, and would not have stood so high as Ginny's shoulder. Though her hands shook somewhat, her actions were tempered and sure. She additionally did not seem as quick to agitation as Madame Pomfrey. No, when she turned back to Ginny, despite the outburst, her face was lit with a wide grin on her joweled, wrinkled cheeks.

The woman reminded Ginny so much of her own grandmum, leaving a pang. But she would not lower her guard, she thought of Umbridge, that unbearable harpy, which reminded her that evil had many faces, the most effective of which were those that appeared harmless.

"I'm Milda McGurdy, mah dear, the nurse here at Hogwarts school of witchcraft and wizardry." Her odd gait was something of a waddle, and the tray she lifted from a stand hidden behind a curtain shook in her little grasp. Some subconscious part of her, that Ginny, every wary and jaded, tried to supress, loved the little woman immediately. "Now you eat up, we've been able to rouse yeh occasionally to eat but yeh'r still so thin." The words were spoken as the platter filled with pumpkin soup, biscuits, rolls, butter and cheese was placed upon her lap.

"Oh ol' Mildi will get hips on yeh yet!"

Ginny threw caution to the wind, needing no prodding as she dove into the tray. Though she still felt weak, eating proving to be something a strain, the pain was at least gone. Vaguely she wondered how long she had slept

The woman interrupted her thoughts, making a little approving sound, pinching the girl's gaunt, pallid cheeks. "Don't worry, ol'Mildi will get colour into yeh'r cheeks, too. I promise yeh!" Ginny managed a small, polite smile.

They sat in amiable silence for quite some time as Madame Mildi scuttled about doing chores while Ginny ate with mindless resolve.

After a while, something akin to a bell rang from somewhere in the room and the nurse's face fell. "Professor Dippet the headmaster of this school and Professor Dumbledore, he found yeh, will be in to see yeh, soon."

Her chewing slowed, processing the information, remembering with sudden urgency the need to establish a backstory. Taking a quick bit of roll-dipped soup she looked around, but none of her possessions including the time turner were anywhere to be found. Ginny's heart dropped.

_Stay calm. _

"Uh-uhm, Madame. McGurdy?" Her voice was a low, throaty rasp, a voice that had not been used in some time.

The woman paused in her filling of a vial with a thick purple liquid. A moment later she turned around, grinning, and returned handing the girl the vial, "Drink now. But please, do call me Madame Mildi! McGurdy was my husband's name and he has been dead g'on twen'y five years! Thank Merlin." The old woman gave Ginny a little wink that nearly caused her to choke on her soup.

"Where is my s-"

Her words were interrupted by the slam of the large double doors on the opposite side of the room, drawing Ginny's attention immediately. She nearly spilt the vial and jumped out of the bed in fright due to the sheer volume of their sudden entrance. The older woman patted her arm, reminding her that she was far too weak to be moving like that and urged her to drink the liquid, which was done with some reluctance.

However, her eyes never left the two men that walked towards her. One she would recognize on a cloudy day. Somehow he looked not a day younger than her first night at Hogwarts. Perhaps he was born an old man, beard dragging along with his umbilical cord. Well, perhaps his beard _was_ a bit shorter, but those eyes, they were still so observant and kind. His half-moon spectacles nearly brought a smile to her lips, but she caught herself. He did not know her, or she him.

The man beside him was but vaguely familiar from "Hogwarts, A History". She silently thanked Hermione for forcing her to actually read it. Armando Dippet current head master. He was something of a frail man, with hunched shoulders and a beard that left much to be desired when poised beside Dumbledore's. His cold, hostile eyes unnerved her as he approached, scowling.

"When did you come from?"

Ginny choked again, but tried to remain calm. "Wh-what?"

"You heard me! WHEN did you come from?" He reached into his robes and slammed a broken time turner into her tray of food, almost spilling the soup onto her lap. She could have slapped him, then; that food was precious.

Her eyes were glued to the device as she clenched her jaw, forcing her gaze back to Dippet. _Think…think. Stay calm and don't let them know they have gotten to you. Stone. You are stone._

When she raised her eyes to his, Ginny hoped that her gaze was significantly less petrified than she felt. "I have no idea what you are talking about. What is that?" The rasp in her voice grew more pronounced as her anxiety increased.

"Oh I think you know very well what it is, Miss Selwyn."

She struggled to remain unfazed. "Excuse me? I a-"

"Are you deaf, child, do you have slugs in your ears? Will I have to repeat every word I say to you?"

Ginny was about to respond when Dumbledore stepped in, with that soft, breathy voice. "Perhaps, Armando, if you gave her a moment to think?."

The other man grumbled, crossing his arms over his chest and sneered. "Fine. Answer at your leisure, Miss Selwyn."

"I-I don't know what that is, Sir. I swear. The last thing I remember was smoke and screaming." It was not so big a lie as she had anticipated giving.

Headmaster Dippet did not seem convinced but Dumbledore spoke first. "That is a common malady of those who misuse time turners. It is why they have been banned, you know this."

"Yes, I know. But it has been a week."

"During which the young woman was asleep, dear Armando." Ever the calm voice of reason.

Again the other man sighed rubbing his eyes in exasperation, "Yes, yes I suppose you are correct. It seems likely she remembers is _that_ night in any case."

Dumbledore gave a noncommittal nod as Dipped pinched the bridge of his nose, closing his eyes in tense thought for a few moments before dropping his hands to look at the girl. "Do you remember your name, Miss Selwyn?"

"G-Ginevra." She murmured carefully, unsure what he was talking about. She would play along, however, it was the safest of the available options.

"You go by your middle name, then?"

Weakly she nodded, her heart beating so quickly she was sure that everyone in the room could hear it beat for beat, " Y-yes. But..uhm how did you know my name?"

The man pulled two pieces of parchment from his robes and handed them to her with eyes too observant for comfort. While Dippet might be old and cranky, he seemed as sharp as they came. Yet another keen eye that she would have to be wary of in a place that had once been a haven.

She tried not to allow her racing thoughts to read on her features, but whether she succeeded was up for debate. One of the pages merely appeared to be a document attesting to the legitimacy of her birth, a document that all wizards and witches receive from the Ministry of Magic. Apparently her name was Rosaline Ginevra Selwyn born on the Autumnal equinox in 1927. This document did not appear to be forged, which was strange. Snape must have somehow gotten his hands on someone's birth documents? This whole situation was getting more and more strange.

The second letter was an envelope, within which was a picture that had her stomach threatening to rebel again. In the image was of Ginny as she was in year 4 of Hogwarts. She knew exactly from where the image had been taken, a funeral for her uncle Heinrich to whom she had been quite close. How had Snape gotten a hold of it, though? She looked well put together, a simple black dress and a little make up with hair moulded in a French braid winding down her hairline and twisting into a simple bun in the back.

Ginny looked positively miserable, however, as she stood between two people she had never seen before. The woman was tall, cold, but beautiful, like a marble statue. With high cheekbones, strong features and lustrous blonde hair intricately styled, she looked otherworldly. Every so often the woman would reach down to Ginny's shoulder and brush some imaginary fuzz from the younger version's shoulder. The man behind her was tall, broad, and angry-faced sitting behind a thick Brown beard. He looked down at her every so often, but otherwise he looked completely immovable.

She shivered, nausea settling in the base of her stomach.

Her lip twitched. Snape might not have had much time, but the man was thorough, that was certain. How he had enchanted the picture and gotten hold of the certificate she had no idea. But at the moment she was so thankful. Her hands shook and she struggled not to cry, hoping that they would dismiss it as a reaction to the picture. With a quivering lip she looked up at them.

"What happened?"

She knew that Dumbledore was not headmaster, but it was a habit for her to default to his authority. Obviously, though, Headmaster Dippet did not appreciate it. Demanding her attention, he cleared his throat and spoke up, "Your parents' bodies were found in your family home 5 months ago after a…violent incident, without even so much as a sign of you. You were presumed dead."

"What…happened?"

"A murder suicide, it was decided. Your father set your familial home alight, mmm presumably killed your mother and then died in the blaze." He paused with a short cough, "The home was salvaged."

Silently she nodded and tried to appear sorrowful. It was not hard really, all that she needed to do was think of Harry, Fred, George, Hermione and she was on the verge of tears, chest clenching. She did what she thought would be an appropriate gesture, running a finger over the woman-that-would-be-her-mother's visage.

"Dumbledore, here, found you lying in the grounds with that time turner. You let out a scream that a banshee would envy, you were very lucky." She began to comment when a look silenced her with seething harshness, "They are very dangerous magical objects, time turners, banned by the Ministry of Magic without express permission. You could be in quite a lot of trouble, young lady."

Ginny's breath hitched and her eyes jumped from the Headmaster to Dumbledore. "I..but…"

Dipet raised a hand. "However, the evidence seems to suggest that the time turner was used in self-defence which was also the conclusion that has been come to by the ministry. And as for your possession of it, pureblood families such as yours come across many old artefacts."

He nodded to Dumbledore who pulled a role of parchment from his robes and handed it to the girl while the headmaster continued to speak. "The minister of magic has already been spoken to and though based on minimal evidence, and against the wishes of myself and Dumbledore, I might add, has made a decision. As your parents were of a peculiar sort and had you schooled privately he has decided that you will continue your studies here as a ward of the School until you finish your seventh year. A measure of your familial accounts will be available to you for supplies, but will be otherwise frozen until the end of your studies."

Ginny was not sure how she should be reacting to this information so she chose numbness, it was easy and familiar. Her default. So when the professor asked if she understood, she nodded, but kept her eyes still firmly fixed upon the picture in her hands. However, her thoughts were only for the soup going cold.

"You will be given no special treatment, young lady. If you fail you will be given no leniency."

The man explained some other particulars regarding when she would be starting, to whom she would report, what her rights would be, really unnecessary things that Ginny could not have cared less about. Though she tried to humour him, feigning attention, the girl failed miserably. Unapproving, Dippet shot her a scathing glare before offering a sort of gruff parting and quickly, for such an elderly man, left the room.

Dumbledore lingered a moment longer, studying her closely. Though she admired him and felt calmed knowing that he was here, the intensity of his scrutiny made her shiver. A part of her knew that if anyone could see through those documents and her story it would be him, but she hoped desperately that he could not. She would not be able to succeed if she was to contend with a suspicious Dumbledore, she had no pretension of being anywhere near a match to him intellectually or in terms of her magic.

"I know," he said in that soft, wistful tone, interrupting her tortured mind, "that this has been all very troubling. But I will do all that I can to assist you. You can come to me for anything, Miss Selwyn, you are not alone, here at Hogwarts. There are those you can confide in."

"Thank you, Professor." She was going to stop, but remembered she was playing a character now, had to become somebody else. The Selwyns, if she remembered, were considered one of the true purebloods and are still spoken of with respect. She was no longer Ginny Weasley "But I doubt I will need it."

He rose a brow.

"I have already told you everything, and I feel fine."

He smiled at her nodding, his eyes obviously amused by something. The man was an enigma, he would be difficult to fool, and he definitely was not as of yet. "Of course, of course." He turned to leave but stopped and looked back at her, "Well if not me then I assure you any of our other teachers as well as our head boy and girl, Mr. Riddle and Miss Leischer would be more than willing to assist you."

At the mention of _that_ name her eyes darkened, jaw clenching. She had to remind herself not to let anything show, but by the time she calmed herself a moment later her nails had dug deep, bleeding welts into her palms unseen beneath the sheets. This game was much harder than it seemed.

Something flashed across his vision as he observed her, but it disappeared as quickly as it came, replaced by the benevolent grin. "The sorting ceremony is in three days. You will need to procure a wand in addition to your books and supplies. We will arrange to have someone escort you."

She merely nodded, not supposing that her character would deign to respond.

"Additionally I am sure the minister of magic will want to interview you again. Nothing seriously oh no, not at all. Just a follow up, you understand. You will have a trying number of days, so I suggest you rest and do as the enchanting Madame Mildi bids." He winked and turned to the woman who was feigning disinterest flicking a wand from side to side, folding sheets. With a quirk of the lips he bowed to her and quickly left the room. "She will have you healthy in no time!"

The moment he left, Mildi rushed over to Ginny and put a hand on the girl's shoulder. "Oh yeh poor dear, yeh poor, poor dear. Now let me go get yeh some pumpkin juice and some nice pudding, maybe a few more rolls. Don't yeh worry I'll def'nitely have yeh right and proper in a few days, yeh can bet yeh'r tooshie on that!" and with that the woman flounced of the large, empty infirmary.

Ginny laid back and closed her eyes. The last half hour sapped her of what little energy she had woken up with. Her mind spiralled out of control trying to absorb the sheer amount of information that had been laid upon her. She had either been miraculously manipulated into existence or was adopting the identity of a dead girl, the time turner had been destroyed so she had no way out, both Dumbledore and Dippet were suspicious of her, and to top it off she would have to play the role of an actual student in addition to her plans.

The situation seemed abysmal. She was completely and absolutely alone in this world, and she had not felt it more than the suggestion of the only person that she truly hated as a port of call. It brought it all back just exactly why she was here and all that she had to do. It made her feel even more alone. Madame Mildi had left another vial of liquid for her to take and so she did with a sigh. It was black and tasted of liquorice but had her falling into darkness after a few moments.

She dreamed dark dreams of silver and green.


	3. Chapter 3

**Author's note**: Thanks so much for all of the support and suggestions for the story! I really appreciate the kind and constructive criticism. You have all been so lovely! While I love all of the pm's I wouldn't mind reviews in the future, as I appear to be somewhat blind to the pm box ;P I hope you enjoy the new direction! I tried experimenting with a different style, as well. Soooo, please review and provide me with more of the incredibly helpful feedback!

**Disclaimer:** I do not own Harry Potter, its characters, or associated content. Those are the property by J.K. Rowlings and Warner Brothers respectively.

**Addressing a couple questions:**I know Dippet seems sort of like an ass, not all that much reasoning behind it other than the fact that his portrait in the movies reminded me of an extremely crotchety old gentleman that lived near my familial home. He was not a pleasant man, and upon thinking on it, if he had been the head of a school, someone like Voldemort might have grown under his nose without him ever noticing. ;P So, I did not think someone as jaded as he would be sympathetic to even the saddest story. Additionally, I thought that having someone like that juxtaposed against Dumbledore would be striking.

I chose Snape and Draco for the first part just because I don't think there was enough interaction between them and Ginny in the books and thought I'd remedy that a bit. I always sort of wondered what Draco would become. No, there won't likely be much regarding them in the future. Again, sorry that there isn't more justification behind it.

And yes, Riddle's eyes are green. . Don't judge me.

* * *

On the night of the sorting ceremony, Ginevra Weasley wished she could say that she felt healthy, calm, and ready for the task at hand. A machine, like that over-muscled Austrian behemoth from those muggle movies that Hermione forced her to watch.

But such would be a lie. She was still weak, sick to her stomach, and absolutely terrified. By Merlin she felt unprepared.

She had hoped that over the last three days she would be able to bury herself in the library and do some research on her soon to be classmates and establish some sort of strategy. It had not exactly been a practice of hers in her younger years to memorize the family trees of the wizarding world as some did. Again she kicked herself for neglecting the black library so terribly. She was at a loss regarding the people she would be confronted with, had no idea of loyalties, and no information to use as leverage.

Ginny had additionally hoped that she would be able to sneak into the restricted section while there were fewer people around to further facilitate her task. If she could not bring herself to say those two words, then she would have to find another way to change the future or a manner to get her nerve. There had even been the hope to explore Hogwarts, again, to regain her bearings, perhaps ascertain what had changed.

Essentially she had hoped that over these several days she could be alone with her thoughts and prepare.

Alas, such was not meant to be, as Madame Mildi refused to let her out of bed, let alone her sight. And when she was not around, Dumbledore was. Watching, always watching.

The situation had not been helped by the nightmares that plagued the girl every time she shut her eyes, which was quite often in those first two days. They were mere reminiscences of her past year, and had her surging into consciousness shaken and screaming. Apparently this had led to concerns over her mental state, with Mildi fussing over her even more vigorously. She had a few doctors from St. Mugo's assess Ginny, but nothing was found to be amiss.

However, the dreams did not cease, and soon she would not be able to be kept under perpetual observation with the student body returning so soon. Madame Mildi ended up just mixing up a potion that resembled gazpacho, but it worked to some degree allowing her to sleep; though, it left her feeling impossibly tired.

_I'll take it. Better tired than a screaming mewling mess._ Ginny thought absently as she watched the steadily increasing throng of students pass.

Also on that second day, much to the chagrin of Mildi, the Minister of Magic had arrived, shooing the doctors from the room. He only spent a few moments with her, and barely gave her time to explain anything before the old, too-thin man patted her back with his skeletal fingers and assured her all was well and that the wizarding community was merely relieved that the only survivor of one of the sacred 28 families was well. A few uncomfortable pictures were taken and just like that he was gone. It amazed and disgusted her all at the same time.

_This experience has really put into perspective what privilege really means._ Ginny had never liked the idea of it, and was even more vehemently against the inequity after having experienced the disparity first hand. _What a load of bullocks. _

With a roll of her eyes at the memory she clenched her fists, knuckles turning white. This place was rife with injustice, this pureblood obsession that grated against her nerves and agitated her still raw memories of the last year. This anger welling within her was going to be a serious issue if she could not get a handle on it, and soon.

Caught amidst her racing thoughts, Ginny almost missed the approach of a nightmare. When she looked up, responding to some unspoken force that had the hairs on the back of her neck standing on end, to find herself pinned to place by a force of green. Her pulse pounded in her ears as she desperately attempted to remain calm.

She shifted uncomfortably wishing she should sink into the wall she was leaning against as the figure approached her. Quickly she shoved her hands into the pockets of her robes and tried to further school her features behind the mask of despondency that she had been so desperately trying, somewhat unsuccessfully, to erect over the last few days. _He_ came closer, that infuriatingly straight posture and smug look covering his features.

"Good evening, Ginevra." It was Tom Riddle

* * *

**Earlier **

It had been decided that she would be escorted to Diagon Alley via flume the morning of the sorting ceremony. Apparently her lack of wand was not only troubling to her, but also to Dippet and the Minister of Magic, who had respectively admonished her for being so careless with so precious a thing. Internally she riled against their commentary, but to them she remained the picture of civility, nodding and making all the correct apologies.

She wondered, vaguely, if smiling might kill Dippet, his face seemed to always be contorted into that snarl. So, she was somewhat relieved when it was Dumbledore that showed up to escort her. Though, she remained wary of him, the man never missed anything and every day he seemed to watch her just that bit more closely. He was rightfully suspicious, but she loathed the prospect of tiptoeing around him all day, as she was still so tired.

However, she was steeled by the knowledge that she would again have a wand. She'd do anything for a wand, even stave off an all too suspicious magical genius for a day.

As her clothes had been disposed of in the days before, she was given a school issued uniform from the lost and found. It was itchy and about three sizes too big, but after rolling the band of the skirt several times and tucking the shirt, she managed to arrange her attire in a way that would hopefully prevent them falling down in public.

As she looked down she realized how painfully thin she must look, perhaps somewhat better from two days of thorough feeding and bed rest, but bones still protruded and muscles shook with the effort of even the minutest movement.

In truth, Ginny had avoided mirrors as best as she could, terrified of the secrets they would make real. She had been successful until Madame McGurdy had forced her to sit before one earlier in the morning. Surprised by the reflection that stared back at her, Ginny remembered poking her cheeks just to make sure they were hers.

Her cheeks were no longer skeletal but they were still gaunt. Her lips no longer maimed and blood splotched, though she had already started chewing on them again from stress. Her large eyes finally seeming to fit her features with her cheeks filling in, but there were still deep, dark circles under them giving her every look a solemn intensity. And her skin, while it did not look as though it would flake away in the slightest breeze, still held an unhealthy, ashen pallor.

The noticeable scar, which ran just above her right ear down her face and neck to the hollow of her throat, was still uncomfortably visible and thick, as was the one that severed part of her right eye brow towards the corner of her eye. Actually seeing them made Ginny shift uncomfortably as she stared at herself. How odd it was to feel self-conscious again. She could not even look at her maimed hand, which she tried to hide under her robes.

_You are not here to impress with your looks._ Ginny reminded herself only somewhat successfully.

Despite the imperfections that still plagued her she felt better than she had in ages.

Her hair, however, had been most startling. No longer were her long locks, which had been cut to the middle of her back after an hour of struggling through it with combs and detangling spells, the striking red they once were. They were now a dark strawberry blonde. Perhaps it was all that time away from the sun, perhaps something else, but the knowledge still pained her.

She was becoming more and more a stranger.

Still reeling from these realizations, Ginny had been a bit confused when Dumbledore led her away from the infirmary as it was the closest fireplace that she could think of. When she posed the question he looked down at her and chucked. "Oh no dear girl. Unfortunately I have a series of meetings today and all of the other professors are engaged with business, special day tomorrow and all. Oh no…no. Our head boy and girl arrived a few days ago and I have arranged for them to escort you."

She tried to object but he tutted her quickly, "Now now, they are perfectly pleasant and it will allow you to bond with some of your class mates."

She thought to argue more but he had set that bemused and penetrating stare, obviously interested in the nature her vehement refusal. Now she could not have that. The thought, thus, died on her lips and she nodded in miserable acquiescence. "Yes, sir, of course. I am just a bit nervous, is all. New people are a bit…you know…"

"Oh no need, my dear! Mr. Riddle and Miss Leischer are lovely and will be quite helpful in getting you acclimated." His words, while pleasant, were still probing and curious as to her continued discomfort. So she turned and smiled tautly at him.

_Merlin, I suck at this. _

"Well, I'll be glad to meet them, in that case."

"Good…very good

They walked in silence for another several moments before two students advanced upon them, exiting the great hall "Ah, Tom, Winnie. Please, both of you, come…come here."

Ginny's heart stopped beating as she turned her head to look where Dumbledore was indicating. Licking her lips, she cleared her throat, trying to ignore how dry her mouth had become. Dumbledore seemed to notice her discomfort, but she hoped he attributed it to her discomfort with new people. As luck did not seem to be on her side, she doubted it

The girl she saw was somewhat unremarkable, bland and bookish, but with intelligent hawk-like blue eyes. Ginny nodded politely to her.

The other was the thing of her nightmares, those eyes the cause of her nightly screams in some form or another. She had to fight off the nausea as well as the urge to launch herself at him and end him in that instant with her hands around his throat. That perfect slim throat. The image of her murdering him shook her as much as his presence. Again the thoughts and questions plagued her…could she kill him?

Nonetheless, standing before her was Tom Riddle, and it being him, she was proud of herself for not passing out from a panic attack at his feet.

_Think of Harry,_ She thought desperately, in her attempt to remain conscious, _Think of Fred and George…don't let them down_.

And so she stood stoic, and, she hoped, self-assuredly as he smiled, looking as charming as he ever had. While it was a look she already knew to be false, it still pissed her off that he looked quite so perfect, so appropriate.

What made her even angrier was that something in the pit of her stomach lurched, and caused her chest to momentarily clench in a dull ache. Apparently nothing could be completely eradicated even by systematic genocide. Her own traitorous mind and body made her want to throw herself off a bridge.

_Don't be so dramatic._

She steeled herself again and forced her gaze to meet his. That his smile did not meet his eyes made her feel somewhat better.

_Perhaps not all that good at playing a part_ _after all. _ As she fell back into her own thoughts and internal analysis, she did not notice how his gaze bored into her. Perhaps it was better that way. Clenching her fists, she came back to reality and turned her gaze to focus on the young woman who grinned politely, ignoring Riddle.

"Hello professor. How are…you this evening?" She had a nasally voice and spoke with an unusual slowness.

"Oh fine, fine. Yes going to be an exciting evening. Did you two arrive alright? No difficulties?"

Tom merely inclined his head, his eyes still uncomfortably trained upon Ginny, while the girl offered an unnecessarily lengthy explanation of the difficulty of corralling a particularly spirited cat into a crate it truly did not wish to enter. Ginny could sympathize, cats were as lovely as they were frustrating. However, it was all that she could do to keep her attention on the girl and not the monster-to-be…or perhaps the monster-that-already-was.

_Standing too bloody close to me, _she growled internally, fists clenching in the fabric of her robes, clinging to keep from lashing out.

"Oh very pesky things, cats. I much prefer owls, yes, yes much less spirited, less cantankerous." He cleared his throat obviously signalling that the girl needed to stop speaking. "Now, may I introduce miss Rosaline Selwyn?"

The other girl's grin grew wider and ripped Ginny's hand from her robes in a most violent hand shake. The girl was either a sadist or far-too enthusiastic. Arm aching Ginny tried to let it drop to her side, but it was not to be, as Tom took her hand and raised it, inclining his head .

"Pleasure." He murmured.

All that Ginny could think of in that moment was that even with scalding water, a healing spell, and acid she would never be able to make that appendage clean again.

_Pity, I liked that hand, it was my favourite hand, a really very good hand. It's going to hurt when I cut it off._

Her satisfaction at her own wit caused her to miss the beginning of Dumbledore's next statement, and to let loose a most unlady-like snort. It appeared to be frivolous chat in any case seeming to do with her preferring hermiddle name and explaining that she was to be sorted tonight. "I would like for one of you two to act as a guide for her over the next week or so. Additionally, she will need an escort to Diagon Alley today. So sorry for the late notice, but such is the plight of prefects." He paused, "This has never happened before, as you know, she will be beginning her sixth year. And you two being the head boy and girl would be the best help to her, you understand.."

Black spots danced before her vision and her seemingly persistent nausea made itself felt again. Oh for the love of the founders, Ginny desperately hoped the girl would be her escort, anything but him.

"Unfortunately" She apologized, breaking Ginny's heart in the process, "I have promised all of my excess time to professor Zorst, to assist her with an important project for the ministry. It will already be a stretch of my duties as it is and…"

"Oh of course…" Dumbledore interrupted in that wistful murmur and turned his attention to Tom, again unreadable. "And you, Tom, will you leave this poor young lady in hands of confusion?"

Tom's jaw clenched and moved his gaze between the two of them, obviously not sure who he was more displeased with. "Of course not, professor."

Though he spoke to Dumbledore , his eyes planted upon her, obviously deciding that her mere existence was to blame for this inconvenience.. She chastising herself , again, for letting him get to her, and was determined to use physical force if need be, to get the light feeling in her stomach to cease.

Dumbledore clapped his hands enthusiastically, tapped Ginny on the head, and made his way towards the grand hall with the other young woman. He had either missed the unspoken tension, or was choosing not to acknowledge it. The man was an infernal puzzle

So, alone at last...

* * *

**Present**

She glanced at Tom nervously as she had earlier that morning, his proximity not any easier to take. The blank facade that she had been practicing completely forgotten, as the whole of her energy was concentrated upon maintaining a semblance of self-control so as not to either attack him or whither at his feet.

"Riddle." She eventually gritted out. Wondering if she would ever be able to maintain the charade around him. Her anger burning hotter than her sense.

But, that hate was quickly being diluted by unease as those eyes had her pinned against the wall, a sharp look that could have flayed the skin and muscle from her bones. A tense silence fell between them.

While Ginny was still just trying not to run away as quickly as she could, he appeared to still be trying to understand her obvious dislike of him.

_God, Ginny stop being so stupid. _

She could not stand this, being alone with _him_. Granted there were hundreds and hundreds of students milling about, but she felt absolutely alone. All of the loneliness, misery, and fear that she had as a first year returning.

_First year_ , Ginny thought miserably, trying to resist the onslaught of grief and shame that assaulted her. She did not know if she could hide it, the hurt, and felt as though she might burst into tears. Memories of pretty words and dark sentiments assaulted her mind._ Cold stone and blood, so much blood._

Blessedly, a large group of students passed and his gaze, again, became less intense falling to their default look of unreadable amusement. She could breathe, as if freed from an unspoken curse. She swallowed and mentally shook herself

_Not a place or time for thoughts like those_

"You look lovely tonight, Miss Selwyn. Your hair has quite an unusual styling."

The abrupt statement caused her to jump, and her face to crinkle unattractively in confusion. She wondered what was so unusual about a messy side braid. But, as she looked around and saw all of the highly styled pin curls, victory rolls, and intricate up-do's, her question was answered. _Obviously quite alot._

Startled by the comment her eyes darted about her, anywhere but him, "My…_what_ a compliment. I'll make a mental note shave it off."

Biting the inside of her cheek, Ginny cursed herself:_ Stupid…stupid._ Emotion was dangerous with him. Why was she so out of control? The safest thing, she had earlier decided, was to gain his attention as little as possible. She could not confront him head on, but perhaps from a flank. And then what does she do time and time again? Egg him on, striking up his attention

_What a moron…MERLIN, Ginny._

"Well that would be a statement; though perhaps a bit dramatic, when you could much more easily glamour it to something unseemly, if you want my attention so badly."

She thought her head might explode, nearly sputtering. She took a moment, blinking a few times in an attempt to gain her bearings.

"Believe me, that is the last thing I want." Her words came out barely above a whisper, teeth still clenched.

"Obviously."

She shrugged, not trusting herself to speak. Was he trying to be charming? To joke with her?

His lips quirked, breaking the Marble mask, "I have been asked to bring you to the great hall, the sorting ceremony will begin shortly and your attendance is mandatory."

With a nod she followed him, being sure to retain a sizable distance from his person without appearing to consciously be doing so. When his eyes were no longer upon her, her shoulders relaxed somewhat and she managed to re affix her mask of indifference.

_This is going to be so much harder than I had thought._

* * *

**Earlier**

Their first exchange had not been so different.

He was the embodiment of gentlemanly propriety and she a hostile badger. How frustrating. The perfect young man everyone loved. If only they knew. She had thought that she might vomit when they passed a group of girls giggling loudly when he nodded at them.

_Oh, Merlin. _

"Are you coming Rosaline?" Tom inquired when she made no move to follow him.

Blinking a few times, she begrudgingly moved as he led her back to the infirmary and prepared the flume. "My name is Ginevra, but you may refer to me only as Miss Selwyn if you must speak to me at all." Hopefully he would merely take her curtness as pureblood prejudice instead of an inability to control her emotions.

His hands stilled in that moment, turning his head just a fraction, gaze pinning her to the spot. She could not breath, he looked like he might as quickly kill her as laugh at her. This young Voldemort was all contradiction and facade. He was still playing a part, the master puppeteer behind the curtain. She found it impossible read him, and perhaps she did not want to, but Founders was she scared. "Of course, _Ginevra."_

She clenched her jaw, pointedly ignoring him.

They had eventually made it to Diagon Alley without further issue, but a frosty tension weighed heavily between them, fueling her frustration.

_If I stay this angry all the time….maybe it won't be so hard to kill him._

The thought sobered her quickly, reminding her that she was playing a game where the stakes were life and death. Not something to be joked about. She milled upon that for a while and found when they finally entered Gringotts, some of the steam had been let out of her sails.

When the little goblin led her to a vault which was filled with more light than the morning sky, she nearly keeled over. It let her mind again fall back upon the ridiculous privilege granted certain members of society. But, she had to admit, it did make life measurably more simple.

A small allowance was given to her and they headed to procure her books, supplies, robes, and uniform. She was even able to get her hand on a Tempest 44, the best broom on offer. Though she copped an obnoxious lecture from the shop keeper about how inappropriate he thought it was for a girl of her age to be concerned with such inappropriate activities, it was worth it. Had she been alone she might have given into her natural urge to deck the man, but with Riddle watching her with that uncomfortable degree of intensity she chose to try and retain her facade, instead advising the man that should he wish to keep his shop and vending license he should not mouth off to a Selwyn. The look of pure dread that fell across her features suggested that the name had more power than she had anticipated.

_Malfoy would have been quite proud of that, I think. Snobby in all the right places._

The prospect that she might be able to fly again very soon kept her mood light despite the dark looks continuing to be shot her way by the shop keeper.

_Stuff him. _

The trip really began to strike home just how different this time period was to hers. Diagon Alley was deathly quiet. There was not the normal yelling between the vendors or conversations in the streets. There were no children playing and no wandering banter between groups. There was no one traveling in anything larger than a group of three and naught more than whispering amongst them. There were no colours or flowers in the street, either, everything was just drab and depressing.

"The ministry is so afraid of _him_." Riddle had come out of nowhere and while he was not exactly touching her, she nearly jumped out of her skin from his closeness. His body was millimetres from her, his heat permeating through her clothes and back, breaths tickling her neck. Her own breath hitched, lips falling open just slightly, some unspoken thing causing her chest to clench. "They terrorize their own people with their bloody inquisitions, becoming far greater monsters than those they try to weed out."

Ginny nearly choked on the irony, but chose to keep that to herself for the moment, using this as an opportunity. "Grindlewald..." Her voice was so soft it verged on a whisper.

"Brave girl, saying his name." Hands clenched into her robes, as she resisted the urge to punch the condescension out of his voice. "They say mere mention of his name lays a curse upon you."

Ginny was again shaken by a somewhat nauseating sense of déjà vu. Her father had never mentioned such a thing when he would tell her stories of Grindlewald. Perhaps it was just a little rumour. Things like that often get ignored from history books. Or maybe it was Riddle formulating his future plans.

Again, she chose to keep her thoughts to herself and spoke in a more measured tone, "Is that why everyone seems like the smallest sound will turn them to ash?."

"Yes, their first instinct is to cower, to kneel." His voice chilled her, leaving her unable to supress the shudder that travelled down her spine. "They know not who to fear…so they fear everything."

"Well, I don't exactly see you running through the streets singing to the heavens. Bloody hypocrite." She internally kicked herself, and tried to regroup, to seem less defensive, hostile. "What else could they do, anyway?"

_Wow, Ginny...really? Founders help me._

"My…what language." He paused as obviously enjoying her discomfort if the quiet chuckle was anything to go by. "Some measure of action, of will, perhaps. But really…a magical community afraid of magic? Pathetic. ." There was no heat behind his words, they were leading, intended to agitate.

"No." Her breaths became strained, incredibly disturbed by his continued closeness. Her eyes darted around beseechingly, but all eyes were on the ground before them. So many people, so many faces and yet no one was seeing. How similar it was to her current time, in those early days of Voldemort's rise. It _was_ fear that allowed _Him_ to wrap his fist more and more firmly around the throat of the world. Her chest clenched again.

"No…it's sad."

She could tell that her words startled him, as his head turned and his lips brushed against her ear, jaw clenching to resist an outward reaction. The 180 degree change in temperament startled her somewhat, being someone else was becoming exhausting.

"Strange girl." He murmured quietly. His lips quirked, cheek brushing against her long braided hair. Was he teasing her now?

_Shit Shit Shit why is he still so close?! Seriously, enough…_

Licking her lower lip, she took a measured step away from him, ignoring the rapid beating of her heart, careful to make no contact with his person. She could not handle it any longer. "Thank you for the insightful commentary," she hissed in a whisper, "But don't ever come this close to me again. Someone such as you has no right."

His gaze and features spoke of amusement, at least on the face. The whole situation had been some sort of sick game, some test to see how far he could push her, and it appears that he had gotten what he wanted. A suitable reaction. However, there was something else in his gaze, something darker that told her she had taken a step too far.

She thought then and there that he might actually kill her. His eyes were not filled with a healthy fire that any normal person would have, there was a coldness to them, an icy decay. It was all the worse and had her frozen in place, completely immovable, eyes desperately seeking out the cracks in the pavement as she tried to avoid fainting.

After a few seconds she was still alive, and ventured another look at him. The unreadable emotion remained, but he'd forced his lips to curl into a blood curdling smirk and turned from her.

Only when his eyes left hers did she feel as if she could breathe again, and a part of her wondered how much she had given a way. Had she just made an enemy of Riddle? That's all she needed. Ginny desperately hoped it wasn't the case, because falling into his radar would be the worst possible thing that could happen. She needed him blessedly indifferent, and yet here she was basically calling him a mudblood.

In reality, she had no idea what had just been exchanged between them, but it could not have been good.

_Merlin, I am bad at this._

He stepped aside, holding the door open to their final store: _Ollivanders_, in front of which they had been standing. His face was blessedly unreadable once more as he held the door open for her. Any thought that he would be easier to handle when his guards were down and emotions out had floundered. Tom Riddle she could handle, because it was a well-practiced, controlled facade. However, his true self, the Voldemort that lurked just behind that veneer was something that she was not yet ready to face so soon.

_I have to be patient, damn it. _

As she walked through the door she tried to convince herself that she was unfazed and actively attempted to push him and their previous interaction from her mind entirely. She was only somewhat successful, though.

When she finally entered the store, she was equal parts excited and scared. For the first time in so long Ginny would not be weak or defenceless. But how much magic would she remember, what could she possibly do with it. What if her wand hadn't been created yet? Her mind was in such a torrent, Ginny had not noticed shadow watching them in the corner.

It did not matter, Ginny decided, eventually, walking deeper into the store. She wanted, no needed a wand more than anything. Hell she would set her lovely broom on fire and stamp it into the dirt in a moment if she had to choose.

She felt that penetrating gaze upon her back, but ignored it as best as she could, channelling as much of Malfoy and his ilk that she could. With shoulders squarely held back, her posture straight, and head tilted so as to look down her nose at everyone, she at least appeared that the situation was not intimidated. The snooty, "I-am-better-than-you" stare was still something she would have to work on, however.

She ran a delicate, pale finger along the thin boxes lining the shelves to her left. Still feeling somewhat shy about her right hand, she subconsciously fisted the fingers in the folds of her robes.

Looking idly around the shop, she found that it was still one of the few stores that looked no different, just as antiquated and dank as always. The walls were lined to the brim with little black boxes and the windows coated with a healthy layer of dust. A wisp of a smile graced the girl's lips, pleased to see something even slightly recognizable. The satisfaction fled, however, when Mr. Ollivander finally emerged from a dark corner.

She supressed the squeak that threatened to escape, but still a hand flew to her breast in surprise. _Who the heck does that?! Geeze._

This man carried only a vague resemblance to the one she knew. He had the same long nose, pale eyes, and whispy hair, but that was where the similarities ended. He was at least a head taller and twice as broad, with a stern set to his jaw and features. Where her mister Ollivander had been kind and grandfatherly, this man was strong and intimidating, more like one of those highland warriors than a legendary wand maker.

There was a pang in her chest, the juxtaposition between what she knew and something so different framed her situation too clearly.

"You had a wand before, Miss Selwyn?" His voice was a guttural rasp that nearly caused Ginny to jump further out of her own skin. How had he known her name, she wondered? Additionally, he had made no offer of a greeting outside of a hard glance and curt nod sent in the direction of Riddle, who was standing in front of the door, as if barring entry to all others.

She nodded having chosen to ignore the rudeness, but tried to put extra snoot into her stance. "Unicorn hair, cherry wood."

He snorted, as if she had been joking. When she merely stared at him, eye brow arched in curiosity, he glowered, his own brows furrowing in concentration as his harsh gaze inspected her. With large arms crossed over his broad chest, he sighed agitatedly, still looking at her as if she told a lie, "No, no I don't think so. Not at all." Jaw clenched, she insisted that it was her wand, only to have him lift a hand to silence her.

"Perhaps it was what you were given, young lady, perhaps it was even what you were meant to have at that time. But it is not your wand. Not now, not at all." He shot her another harsh look, before turning on his heel and disappearing into the dark.

An amused chuckle sounded behind her and against her better judgement she whipped her head around a furious look in her eyes. What could he have possibly found funny?

"What?!"

"You just about started an argument with Gervaise Ollivander, you insolent girl!" With anyone else it would have been a critique or an admonishment, but with him it was a compliment, he was entertained. She was relieved to find that his gaze had lost the unspeakable quality that made her skin crawl. He was lounging relaxedly against the front door, as if nothing had occurred only minutes past. "Very amusing."

She had another distinct urge to punch him. His ability to transcend situations and move on pissed her off almost as much as that annoying smirk.

She was ready to respond, to shut him down, but was interrupted by the reappearance of mister Ollivander, a dust covered box in hand. When he moved closer it looked as if the thing had been slowly rotting, the cover broke to pieces, falling to the floor when he lifted it. "Been here a long, long time. Dragon heart string and blackthorn wood."

While his gaze remained hard, his voice was soft, almost affectionate when he looked at the wand.

Again, Ginny's brow furrowed as she looked at it. The wand was not straight and buffed to shine as her old one had been. The thing was twisted and bent in numerous places, with furrows running all along its length. Further, it was covered periodically in what looked like thorns which had been shaved and moulded into something less violent. The thing did not even have a handle, just a thicker stalk with larger thorn-like nubs. The thing was intimidating. It looked evil.

Ginny shivered when she took reluctant hold of the wand. Ensconced in the immediate sensation of contentment, she did not have the ability to look uncomfortable about her right hand. That the tip of her ring finger was gone above the knuckle did not appear horrifying or out of place. If anything, it looked right.

It was difficult for her to acknowledge how right the thing felt in her hand, but it did, she knew that it was the right wand. As she stared down it looked like it had grown into its form as she held it, a curious organic construction, not something that had been formed and created by human hands. With a breath she raised the wand as if it was an extension of herself. She flicked it to the left, making a small circular movement "Deletrius."

The box in Mr. Ollivanders hands turned to dust and then dispersed into smoke when he dropped his palms. There was a small quirk to his lips, and seemed genuinely pleased, or at the very least, appeared less likely to scream obscenities at her. "I have waited quite a long time for the right person to take that wand. It is not a piece for the light hearted."

Swallowing she looked up at Ollivander, suddenly wishing that _he_ was not in the room to listen into the conversation, but she needed some answers and so tried to keep the quiver from her voice, as if her inquiries were nothing more than trifle things.

"Isn't blackthorn a bringer of ill omen?"

"Young lady, Blackwood is a tree of great power, volatile power. It has garnered a dark reputation because it has been used by those unworthy of it, to those, yes, it might be bad luck." He paused, squinting his gaze at her for a moment before continuing his tone slightly less abrasive, "Black wood is a dark violent looking shrub that pricks and cuts those who are not careful in their tending of it, but it possesses the most beautiful flowers when in bloom. Its power can be similarly characterized."

He paused thoughtfully, scratching the stubble of his chin and then turned with a wave of the hand, essentially dismissing them.

As Ginevra looked down, at the violent thing in her hand his final words reverberated in her mind. "Just remember," he muttered in a barely audible tone, "You are its master." Shivering, she placed it into her robes, suddenly missing the beautiful wand from her past. The beautiful mediocre object. She was threatened from every angle, it seemed. No sanctuary to be found even in her own magic, always to be on her guard. As she turned around she was confronted with her most serious threat, curious green eyes.

* * *

**Present**

Surprisingly, as she walked, somewhat separated from Riddle, she did not feel that much better even with her wand. She was walking with a monster, a wolf in sheep's clothing. He might look the part of an eighteen year old man, but she knew the power he already possessed, the dark arts he had already learned. Hell, last year would have been when he let loose the Basilisk. She knew he already killed three people and she wondered how many more had not been recorded.

"I wonder, will you react that way to everyone that offers you a compliment? Suppose Dumbledore were to say that you looked lovely, would you threaten to tear your face to pieces with a cheese grater?" The comment had breath rushing from her lungs as if he had punched her in the stomach. Her lips hung open in confusion, eyes wide in a gaping sort of way. Was that humour he was attempting? Can monsters laugh?

Through clenched teeth she hissed, refusing to acknowledge his statement, "We don't need to talk, Riddle. In fact, I'd prefer it that way."

He chuckled, apparently feeling no need to push his advantage any further at the moment.

Steeling her thoughts and memories against him, she tried desperately to calm herself, and stop jumping to his every bait. She was no longer that little girl, and he was no longer her secret friend.

_No, no, no now stop that now. _That line of thinking was dangerous, and so she forced her mind in a different direction.

She was flooded with relief when they finally rounded on the Great Hall. "Ginevra, seat yourself at the front, there, with the first years."

"Miss. Selwyn. To you."

He smirked, "Of course, Ginevra."

With supressed huff of frustration, Ginny turned from him to the room.

The Grand Hall looked no different than it would fifty years later. Smiling she looked around at the floating candles and house banners, the ceiling was still bewitched and lovely. The hall was still filled to the brim with students. The only difference seemed to be the students, themselves, the hall was far quieter than she had ever heard it, virtually no talking or socialization. Heads were down, and students only clustered in groups of two or three. Faces looked generally blank, very few dared to smile.

The atmosphere seemed more like a prison than a school.

When she came back to reality she had hoped to find Riddle gone. Unfortunately she found he had moved closer, studying her.

Again she steeled herself and matched his glare. "Do you have nothing better to do than stare at me, Riddle?"

His abrupt laughed surprised her, causing her to jump. It was not a mirthful thing, no it was harsh and mocking. As the sound faded, he turned and walked over to the Slytherine table, settling himself in the middle of a large group, people shifting and moving to accommodate him.

With a sigh of relief, Ginny moved to settle herself up amongst the first years.


End file.
